Embers
by whedonite1113
Summary: Naomi fights her way back from death to give Emily the life she promised they would always have. But their world is still the roller coaster of wonder and hurt it has always been. Post "Skins: Fire," Naomi recovers. You've -yet- to see what happens!
1. Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I've debated for quite some time whether I wanted to give this idea a shot. With the way "Skins: Fire" ended, it seemed to basically kill off any future hope of Naomily having a future and with it, a lot of the fandom jumped ship. Some of us are still here though, and we keep plugging away. I hope to update this one more regularly than my "opus" fic **_**Cry, Little Sister**_** so expect weekly to bi-weekly updates depending on how quickly I can scrape up the plot pieces.**

**I must go on record as saying, despite what I will write in this story, I do believe that Naomi did in fact succumb to her cancer based on the way the events played out in the show. But…just because things ended that way in canon world, doesn't mean that fanon Naomi can't find some way to fight her way back, even when things look their absolute bleakest.**

**I'm going to attempt to fill in a few of the plot holes for "Fire" as I imagined they would have happened. So bear in mind, this is fanfiction, and this is just my interpretation, but hopefully, you guys will like where this is going and continue with me. This won't be a fluffy fic, by any stretch of the means, but I will say that I will do my best to tell the continuation of what I believe would have been Naomily's story. No disrespect to the Brittains or Bryan Elsley…but in this world, in this story…your ending is rejected.**

**PROLOGUE**

I used to love to watch Naomi sleep. Not in a creepy way, just on occasion. Knowing she and I were sharing the same bed, knowing there was no possible chance I'd wake up here alone ever again. Except now I would. Because every time she closed her eyes, I was afraid it would be the last time I would see those beautiful, sea-barren blues. Effy said they looked faded to her, more gray now than they used to be. And they had been a bit a few days ago, but this morning when she woke up and found me laying beside her, my arm wrapped protectively around her thin, frail body as the monitors beeped beside the hospital bed, I saw them sparkle. The way they used to do, and only when she was looking at me.

I hadn't really slept all week. The plane ride had been almost unbearable, the cab ride all the worse, and the arrival at the hospital? It had taken ages to work up the strength to walk into Naomi's room. The first thing I noticed as soon as I had been more or less pushed in by Effy was how thin her hair had become. There was no longer a soft, warm truss to bury my hands into. And oh how I had over the years, in so many ways. Now all that was left was assorted pieced follicles which were so soft, I was afraid if I pressed my hand too hard they would cave back into her skin.

The hours that followed were nothing but tears. So many tears. No words. What was there to say? She was dying. My girlfriend, my lover, my world…was dying. Of goddamn fucking ovarian cancer. Stage 4. Terminal. No chance of recovery.

And as I stood next to her bedside, the DNR papers in my hand, waiting for her to awake, I honestly thought I was going to be sick. I pulled a nearby trashcan just the tiniest bit closer just in case. Closing my eyes, I pinched at the skin around the top of my nose, hoping it'd keep everything down. A soft, "hey," broke me out of my stupor as my weary eyes met Naomi's, her head lulled against the pillow as I leaned forward and placed my hand gingerly on her forehead.

"Hey," I said. Her long, thin finger pointed toward the cup of tap water and straw, Her hand shook slightly as she fought to keep it level. I knew when she was trying for my sake, to not appear as broken I knew she was, as hopeless and helpless as I'm certain she was. Another bout of sobs broke against my throat, but I swallowed them down and reached for the water. I helped her take a few sips before her lips dropped the straw and she sighed. Placing the water back on the counter, I said quietly,

"The doctor brought something by." Naomi tried to sit up slightly, so I stuck my hands beneath her shoulders, doing my best to match the muscle movement cues she was giving me until she was comfortably half laying but also half sitting against the higher set of pillows just above her.

"What was it?" I didn't have the heart to say the words aloud, so I merely brought the papers as close as Naomi needed to read them. Her mouth thinned and as her eyes scanned what was in front of them. My eyes couldn't look anywhere but at the bolded letters at the top: **Do. Not. Resuscitate.**

What happened next, I won't ever forget for the rest of my days. Perhaps even past then. It's something a reincarnated sense of self will always remember and acknowledge because it was the first time I felt hope in a dreary, dire sense of permanence.

Naomi's eyes turned to mine, a half smile cracking into her parched lips as she stated firmly, "Fuck that. And fuck this cancer too." She took a deep breath, and as she took my hand, she stated quite firmly. "We're going to beat this bitch."

I was overwhelmed. And honestly, in that moment, I didn't give a damn if it was absolutely impossible or not. I knew that look. This wasn't over. Not even fucking close.

I was crying and kissing her before I even realized I was probably being far too exuberant about it. "Yes, we will," I said as my forehead rested against hers, my lips, "We'll find a way, somehow."


	2. One

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: The response to this story so far is overwhelming. Thank you guys so much. It makes me excited, and admittedly a bit nervous, that you want to read this story. I shall do my best to make it worth your time. Again, I will remind anyone who has not read anything else I've written, I'm a bit of an angst addict and I certainly don't plan on shying away from it now, especially as I think it's extremely important for this type of material. I shall also do my best with the medical portions of this and the following chapters, but considering I'm not, myself, a cancer survivor, I can only make educated assumptions. Hopefully, if I do my job right, you won't have to suspend too much belief. **

**So, on to chapter one! This won't be easy for them, and I'm sorry for that.**

**ONE**

I stormed down the hallway and out through the emergency exit to the stairwell. The door slammed shut behind me as I continued to ascend all the way up to the rooftop. My rapid footsteps echoed throughout the narrow concrete room until I finally reached my destination. I had to push on the handle of the metal door at least three times before it finally swung open. Immediately, the wind was knocked out of me.

_Fucking hell, it's cold. _

It had rained torrents the night before, and it seemed like my eyes were taking up the remainder of what the clouds couldn't finish. I crossed to the railing and used it to brace myself. My hands immediately stuck to the half frozen bar, as I sunk to my knees and sobbed. After they gave Naomi a bit of morphine to help with the pain, she'd faded into a quiet slumber. I'd told myself I was just going up to the roof to have a fag, to take a quick breather, I'd be back in a few minutes, but I'd made it all of ten paces from Naomi's door before my legs sprinted into a run.

I should have gone back into the room and stayed with her. But I was so tired of crying. Especially in front of her. I needed some air. And now even that was being taken from me. My head and body shook as I continued to all but wail down at the street. A full release from my emotionally wrecked body.

I gave into my sadness. To my fear. Just for a minute. I just needed a minute…

* * *

Walking down the hallway, my feet weary now, but I was upright and my cheeks burned from the windy tears. I searched for Naomi's doctor. I didn't remember his name, but I knew he had that poncy mustache. I'd seen better trimmed hair on an orangutan. When he wasn't anywhere to be seen, I quietly opened the large, wooden door leading to Naomi's room, just in case she was still asleep. I crossed the small distance quickly, when I saw a nurse by her bedside administering something into her IV. "Is she ok?" I asked quickly.

"I'm fine," Naomi said, her hand reaching for mine. "Just wanted to make sure I was awake when the doctor came by. You've been gone a while." I glanced over at the digital clock, the red letters indicating I'd been on the roof for over two hours. Naomi's thumb lightly stroked the top of my wrist.

My heart twinged when she didn't pull away or indicate how cold my skin must have been. She'd been my own personal body temperature detector only months ago.

Lost sensation from the chemo. Probably.

"Sorry about that," I said quietly as I placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. "I thought I would have been back by the time you woke up." Naomi's cracked lips smiled slowly at me. Everything took such effort now.

"It's ok," she whispered, keeping her eyes locked on mine as the nurse left us alone in the room. I pulled up a chair and sat down next to her.

"Are you nervous?"

"A bit."

"Me too." I sighed. I'd had a bit of time to think about things. Maybe I was being selfish. Maybe I was asking too much. What if this was too hard for her? What if all it did was make it more painful for when she finally—

"Ems?"

"Hm?"

"You're thinking too hard." I sighed and clutched her hand tightly, the tiniest hint of a laugh seeping through my teeth. It's the first I'd heard from myself in what felt like ages. What I was certain was another lifetime entirely.

"I'm just—I don't know, what if—"

"There can't be a single thing you're thinking before I'd already thought about it first. Even before you were here. Before you knew anything." A small boiling began at the bottom of my stomach. I knew she hadn't intended it to be scathing, but it still stung.

"You're not off scot free when you come back to me from this," I said a bit sternly. Funny. All my frankness did was make her smile bigger.

"I know," she replied just as there was a knock at the door, followed by Dr. Douche-Stache's entrance without so much as a confirmation it was ok to enter. I was surprised to see there was a younger, more friendly gentleman behind him. Doctor Reed, Naomi's physician, I could see his name tag now, had his nose in a chart, while the one behind him came in and took a seat on the opposite side of Naomi.

"All right, Miss Campbell, let's get started," D-Stache began as she closed Naomi's file and placed it at the bottom of the bed. My heart started to race, and from the light squeeze of my fingers, my guess is that Naomi's nerves had kicked up a notch as well. Reed gave us a small smile as he indicated the young man beside him. "This is Doctor Hoffman and he will be educating you on a few more of your current options at this given stage. Since you requested it. I'm just here to make sure you understand everything he tells you." My eyes narrowed at the uppity man, and I'm fairly certain if Naomi were in any position, she wouldn't have any issue in telling him what a right, fucking twat he was being.

Doctor Hoffman's large brown eyes met Naomi's and he gave her a sincere smile. The very first one I had seen from any medical professional thus far in this hospital. "Hello, Naomi," he said, his voice low and soft. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm sorry if I skip the pleasantries," Naomi quipped, "Dying you see."

"Naomi," I said quickly, my natural need to apologize on my girlfriend's behalf taking reign. Mostly I just didn't like hearing those words come out of her mouth. Doctor Hoffman's smile only got bigger.

"Naomi, I want to talk to you about where we can go from here. Surgery is still not out of the question, but currently your body is far too weak to heal itself from the invasive surgery it would take to remove the tumors from your ovaries." I saw the hope begin to drain from Naomi's eyes as she fully registered her condition for probably the first time in ages. Often times when the doctor visited and rattled off stats, she'd just look out the window. Stare off as if it didn't matter. But now it mattered more than anything. Because it mattered for us both. Doctor Hoffman continued. "There might be a way we can combat that, however." Naomi's gripped tightened, as did mine. I couldn't help it. I knew I shouldn't get my hopes up, but I couldn't fucking help it.

"How?" I found myself asking. Doctor Hoffman glanced between us both.

"Monoclonal antibodies are a lot like what you would call artificial white blood cells. They're grown in a lab and they help fight off the cancer cells. You body isn't just fighting off the tumors, Naomi. Your blood has also been poisoned by the leaking bacteria contained in those tumors. If we hope to operate to remove them, you're going to have to have a higher white blood cell count in order to fight off the infection and trauma from the surgery. Hopefully these antibodies will help counteract a lot of the cancer's damage and increase a lot of the proteins needed to regulate her system. Mind you, the body will choose to expel itself of any remaining bacteria in any way it sees fit." Doctor Hoffman paused while the information sunk in. It had taken all of my strength not to squeeze her hand out of excitement at this prospect, but all Naomi could do was stare at him gravely. "We would then keep you monitored after surgery, and if it is successful, we may do a few more rounds of radiation, chemotherapy, any other options we could potentially explore. This is an extremely long…extremely painful…means of recovery. But I am confident that at this stage, it is our best chance." _Our_ best chance. As if he were as equally invested. My mind was swimming and racing and slowing down all at once. If this was sensory overload for me, I can't imagine what it would be like for Naomi. "The recovery in combination with the surgery will be a long and hard pull on your already weak body, Naomi. It may be the hardest thing you've had to fight off yet."

Naomi finally smirked at that as she squeezed my hand. "I very much doubt that." The doctor was undeterred by Naomi taking the piss out of his severe lecture. After a long exhale in the quiet of the room, Naomi nodded. "Do it," Naomi said frailly. "If that's the option, that's the option." I pulled at her hand.

"Are you sure?" I asked. The length at which Hoffman had talked about the painful recovery was making me feel sick to my stomach all over again.

"I'll give you a minute to think about it, Naomi."

"No," she said, clearly mustering her strength to give him her best attempt at a stern face. "I don't need to think about it. Emily needs me to live. I need to live." She sighed. "I'm done rolling over and just letting myself get fucked." I bit my bottom lip at the mixture of swelling emotions in my chest. Pride. Fear. Love. Fortunately I didn't have to a chance to let one speak for me as Doctor Reed appeared to finally check back into the conversation.

"Right well if that's the case, Miss Campbell, I will tell the nurses to make arrangements to move you into the Intensive Care ward." I kissed Naomi's hand as I stood,

"I'll pack up our things."

"Oh no, Miss Fitch, you won't be going with her," Doctor Reed chimed in.

James had hit me on the shoulder with a hammer once when we were working with some gym equipment with Dad when we were young. I remember a paralyzing sensation travelling up my arm and into my head seconds after my body registered what had happened to it. That's what those words felt like. A crunch into my back. Nothing but crushing fear.

"What?" Naomi and I asked in tandem. But I already knowing what his reasons would be.

"Only doctors and patients are allowed, Miss Fitch. Naomi will be under strict quarantine while he body heals itself both before and after the surgery. I'm sure there is someone you can call to pick you up," his phone buzzed in his pocket as he lifted it to answer without another thought.

"She has to go in there alone," I stood, practically barking at Doctor Hoffman who had the unfortunate chance of being left alone with my ever rising temperament. I closed the distance between us, my loyalty and insistence at Naomi not having to spend a second away from me taking hold of the better part of my senses. "For how long?"

"As long as the treatment takes," the doctor said, "until she is stabilized and can be moved into a recovery room, much like this one." My legs were trembling now. I expected her to look terrified. But she didn't. She just smiled back at me before looking back at Doctor Hoffman.

"Can you give us a minute?" she asked. Doctor Hoffman nodded his head before exiting the room after the quack of a medicine man in white. "Come here," Naomi said, extending a hand out to my undoubtably bewildered expression. "Please," she asked after I didn't move. All I could do was blink at the blasé man who had just walked out the door. Informed us as if this was nothing. As if he didn't understand what he was asking of her. Of us. My hand drifted into Naomi's and once it had, she pulled my focus to her. Her eyes were steel blue, resolute. "It's going to be ok," she said. "It is."

"You can't know that," I said immediately.

_When did these roles reverse. When did I become the faithless doubter and she the optimistic idealist._

"I love you," were the next words out of her mouth. And they didn't sound like a goodbye. They were a promise. And for a split second we weren't in a hospital bed, we weren't on the brink of a possible separation….a potentially forever separation….we were sixteen. In party dresses. Standing in front of my sister, our friends, finally saying out loud everything we wanted. Everything I needed to say and she needed to hear.

_I like girls…no…I like __**a**__ girl…no…I __**love**__ her….I love __**her**__…._

_I love her…_

_I love her…_

_I love her…_

"I love you," I whispered back as I lowered my lips onto hers. The kiss wasn't deep. It wasn't passionate. It was a seal, as if everything else faded away from this moment, and every promise ended up breaking at my feet once she was taken away…that was always true. Nothing else mattered, because we loved each other. I felt the sob strangle my mouth, and I broke the embrace, leaning my forehead against Naomi's, eyes closed, quietly crying. We stayed like that for several seconds before the door opened, and I knew we were out of time. As I heard the clamor of who knows what beside me, new bed, new machines, new whatever, it didn't matter, I opened my eyes and cupped Naomi's hallowed cheeks into my palms. Her weak hands covered my wrists.

Her eyes were sparkling. Just the tiniest bit.

And I smiled.

"Heaven can't have you," I vowed, "you're mine." Naomi smiled, one that reached all the way into her eyes.

"Damn right," she whispered as a nurse tapped me on the shoulder.

The next little bit happened in a flurry and flash. Three attendees swooped around Naomi's bed, mobilizing equipment, lifting her from the small recovery bed to the gurney, they didn't even both to say they were wheeling her away until she was already out the door. I followed as far as I could, keeping my eyes on her, holding back the tears. I tried to smile a few times, just so that she wouldn't see me completely broken before she left my sight…potentially for good.

My heart sunk when we finally reached the unit labeled "Intensive Care" and I knew I could go no further. I wanted to reach out, stop them, say goodbye, but they never stopped pushing that damn gurney. My pulse raced, I couldn't hear anything around me, all my senses were honed in on the small figure of Naomi…my Naomi…as she disappeared into the room. As the sound of her small bed whisked away, I whispered, now only to myself in the barren, sterile hallway,

"You're mine."

There would be racking sobs to follow. Sleepless hours and potential vomiting over any attempts to try and keep food down. Lonely, sleepless nights. All of that was to come.

But in that very moment, I couldn't feel any of it. See any of it. All I could do was stare at the door, the words coming out of my mouth in nothing more than a murmur,

"Come back…come back…come back…"


	3. Two

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story will not follow any of the outline set forth in "Both of You." I reused the one line because it felt appropriate for the given moment. Thank you to everyone for the support thus far. It really does mean so much.**

**Read, review, enjoy!**

**TWO**

Drip…drip…drip…

Why was that so loud? My temples felt like they were caving in as I opened my eyes. I didn't have the strength to turn my neck, but after a few blinks I caught sight of the IV beside me which…was echoing in my head. Somehow. I could hear my own pulse throbbing in my ears as it synched with the beeping of the heart monitor. My breathing sounded like it was passing through an open cavern. I tried to move, wiggle my toes, shift my shoulders, but it was if the command didn't make it past a thought. Everything stayed still.

With a slow exhale I decided to close my eyes yet again. Where before my mind had been blank, I was now bombarded with images, all of which were mostly still frames. Each image was haloed in swirls of light and color, an under water sound rippling against the flow of pictures, as if I were sorting through an album beneath the sea. The moments were familiar but were not from my memory. After a few more seconds, I became aware that they were indeed photographs I'd seen before. Wide shots of buildings, close ups of lips and hands, several avant-garde black and whites and colors flipping through a large black book…and these pictures moved from unfamiliar and professional to warm and amateur. And then an echo…my own voice. In this stolen second, I glanced up from the album and into the bright sunlight, and Emily was smiling at me as real and tangible as ever as I said, "These are really, _really_ good. I'm actually very proud of you."

Emily's laugh…Emily's _soft_ laugh…

It was the sound of it which pulled my eyes open yet again as my hands clutched the white bed sheets beneath me. My throat was completely parched but my voice still echoed a low, painful groan as I shifted my weight until I was in a more upright position. My head hit pressed against the large pillow behind me as my nerves lit and tingled with the onset of blood flow. My vision blurred and cleared twice as my breaths came out in short wheezing bursts.

I felt sick to my stomach. Worse than the pain and swirling equilibrium experienced in chemo. I was certain if I tried to move any more I'd collapse into a pile of sick. And then I was. My body leaned over the bed, and I grabbed the nearest large container and I fucking puked my guts into it. Over. And over. My throat burned and my stomach muscles started to seize. I barely caught my breath before another wave hit me. My eyes watered as my mouth opened and expelled what was left of my insides. A few seconds before I was certain I would pass out, it stopped. My arms were weak and heavy, but I somehow managed to put the mess onto the floor, hearing it slosh with the sounds of my stomach contents. I gagged at the taste of puke on my tongue and teeth. I wiped my lips on the back of my hand several times, pushing the tiny chunks clear of my chin.

_Breathe…breathe for fuck's sake…breathe now that you fucking can…_

With each inhale, I tried to focus on something which wasn't here in this smell of death. Something worth clinging to…living for…someone…

Closing my eyes, I saw my mum's face. She had moved to Tahiti before Emily and I uprooted to Manchester, and was hundreds of miles away helping to rebuild the world, one civilization at a time. She had no idea I was sick. No idea I was…dying…and I felt guilt wash over me.

_If I hadn't told Emily, maybe, at the very least, mum had deserved to know…maybe…maybe I had made a mistake…I don't want to be alone…I don't want to die alone…_

I re-opened my eyes as finally saw the walls of thick plastic which surrounded the tiny space I was occupying. There was nothing but fluorescent, artificial light everywhere. I suddenly wished for the sunlight of the recovery room, and my Emily at my bedside, holding whatever part of me she could. It had hurt. Contact. But I let her stroke my face, trace my thinning arms, anything she needed for comfort.

When she found me I was beyond comfort. I had accepted what would inevitably happen to me. Had no opinion on it one way or the other. There was nothing more I could do.

I remembered having a dream, a nightmare, where Emily had settled into a home in London. Children played around a large table, the smells of a full English coming from the kitchen. And another woman's arms wrapped around the woman I had spent my entire life loving, and the worst part was…Emily had looked happy. I mean, I had done what I did so that Emily could have a life, but…seeing it, knowing it would be an inevitability, even if there was a part of her which still clung to me past death, it had been too much.

I was not going to be replaced.

So here I was, fighting. Hoping. No longer dying…

"Not so sure about that second part," I groaned as my head started to throb. My ears echoed with a high pitched sound; my hands pressed into my temples to try and relieve some of the pressure. But it just turned the shrill siren into low pounding drums, and that's when I realized…it was my heart. My chest clenched tightly and it suddenly became very hard to breathe. Before I knew what was happening my feet began to shake and the last thing I remembered was the sharp sudden pain which shot from the top of my spine to my tail bone, my eyes rolling into the back of my head before everything went dark.

* * *

My back cracked in two different places as I sat up in the waiting room chair. In the last few hours I had somehow managed to curl up into a ball, using the arm rest for support beneath Naomi's jumper which I used as a pillow. "Emily," I heard a familiar voice say as I slowly opened my eyes and felt a gentle hand brush my shoulder.

A wave of relief flooded through me as I looked up at my sister. Without a word and nothing more than a weak smile from Katie, I stood and enveloped the woman who shared my face in a bone crushing hug. Gentle swaying turned to soothing lower back strokes and the longer we held one another, the more my body relaxed into her, and I let go. I sobbed. Again. For the hundredth time since my plane landed. But this was the first time I'd done so in Katie's arms. So I knew I could cry as hard as I wanted and I wouldn't be judged for it. Eventually my legs gave out as my voice grew horse, and Katie had to sit me back down again otherwise we both would've collapsed on the floor.

She waited several minutes, holding my hands with one of her own and gently stroking my knee with her other, before she spoke. "I'm here. It's all right now." It took several more inhales and exhales before I could look Katie in the eye. I smiled. She looked good.

"I've missed you," I said, my voice dry and cracking. Katie smiled back.

"I missed you too," she replied, her lisp barely apparent anymore as it lightly trickled over her "s"es. "You look like shit," she added, causing me to laugh as I wiped at my eyes. "Expected you would though." I could tell she was dancing around the topic of asking so I decided to go ahead and answer anyway,

"I don't know how she is." Katie nodded, glancing at the door. The waiting area was small, only a few chairs, a telly in the upper right hand corner which rested on a metal platform. So we were more or less alone. Completely isolated. It wasn't until the silence drew on that I noticed Katie was crying. "Katie?"

"'S nothing," Katie grumbled, as she wiped a tear which fell down her cheek, sniffling back a few more before continuing, "Stupid fucking bitch. What the fuck was she thinking, not telling us." She sniffled again, glancing at me. It was always strange watching my twin cry. Let me know what I looked like. Sort of. "I'm glad you rang me." My fingers tightened around her Katie's hand.

"I'm not as brave as she is. I couldn't've done this on my own." With another deep inhale, Katie turned to me, smoothing out her skirt as she did so. Her face sombered as her body language matched the obvious switch into "all business" mode her mind had flipped into.

"So fill me in. Completely." I did my best to explain to her about the anti-bodies and the follow up surgery. Katie's brain was churning, digesting the information, her eyes blinked several times as she slowly put everything together.

"You know you can look at stem cell research. Provided she survives this bought of surgery." My eyes narrowed.

"You're a pediatrics nurse, Katie, what the hell do you know about stem cell research?" Katie's lips thinned.

"Plenty thank you. Embryonic tissue is used in the growth of stem cell tissue, dozy cow. But it'd be expensive." I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Which there's no way we can afford." Katie's face softened again as her hand went back to stroking my knee.

"You let Mark and I handle that, yeah?" Just as I was about to protest taking money from my sister and her husband, the glass door opened and Doctor Hoffman entered. My heart dropped to my stomach as I saw the quiet expression on his face, and I began to feel faint. Katie's hand splayed firmly across my lower back.

"Hello, Emily," he said in that same infuriatingly kind voice. I thought it'd be better if I stood. So I did, and folded my arms in front of me.

"How—how is she?" I stammered, trying to sound as level as I could, but was very grateful for Katie's contact. Hoffman looked like he was struggling to put all the words together, and so I added with a hollow laugh, "For a cancer specialist you're shit at delivering bad news." He smiled.

"I always have been," he said, and motioned to the chair behind me as he suggested, "please, Emily, have a—"

"No thanks," I refused quickly, and my brain asked the question my lips couldn't convey.

_Is she dead?_

"It's not great news Emily, but it isn't terrible either," he said, resigning to the fact that I wasn't going to make myself comfortable for this conversation. "Naomi experienced a mild seizure." Katie's grip tightened in the fabric at the back of my shirt. My jaw tightened, and my feet started to shift. "We got her stabilized rather quickly. There was the risk of that happening. Her body is extremely fragile at this state, but the antibodies are working their way through her system. It's only been about thirteen hours, so we can't know anything definitive for another seventy-two."

"That's three days!" Katie yelled.

"Congrats you can count," I said, dryly. Closing my eyes briefly, I inhaled and exhaled, trying to keep myself from collapsing altogether. Eventually, I squeezed my upper arms tighter, reminding myself who I was standing here for and re-opened my eyes. "When can I see her?"

"Not for some time yet. Maybe it'd be best if you got some sleep, Emily. We have your mobile number on file. We'll call you with any changes."

"I'm staying," I insisted, shaking my head.

"Emily, I didn't fly all the way out from Belfast to sit with you in a dingy hospital. I've checked into a motel, and you're going to come back with me." I pulled from my sister's grasp then and turned on her, my eyes red and swollen from the days upon days of sleepless, crying nights. But I wasn't going fucking anywhere.

"I'm staying," I insisted as I plopped back down on the chair and rested my head in my hands. My hearts was still pounding, but less so than it had been five minutes ago.

"There's nothing more you can do for her now, Emily. Not until we know more," Doctor Hoffman insisted. Licking my lips I lowered my hands and gave the man in the white coat a glossy stare.

"Thank you, Doctor Hoffman. I appreciate you keeping me updated." With another heavy sigh, I shut my eyes again and lowered my head. I could feel my hands shake slightly as I heard the familiar male voice say,

"Try to get her to sleep," before he left me alone with my twin. Katie's heels click twice before the shuffling of a bag being packed caused my eyes to shoot open and I stood

"I said I'm not—"

"I heard what you said. And I'm not listening to you," Katie insisted, grabbing my arm.

"You can't boss me around anymore, Katie!" I contended. We were nose to nose now.

"I'm not," she asserted, her lisp coming back almost full tilt as she continued to rattle off to me, "I'm doing what is best for you, because right now you're still in the intensive care unit lying beside her! And that's mental!" My eyes narrowed.

"You're fucking daft, that doesn't even make sense." I stepped back a few feet but Katie quickly closed the distance between us

"Doesn't it?" she continued, "You might as well be hooked up to a machine and laying on gurney yourself for all the good that you're doing Naomi right now. You want to help her? Really, _truly_, help her? Come with me, get food, get a shower, get your head in the game proper so that when she is ready to head into surgery you'll be able to see her once she leaves that plastic room!" I bit my lip. I wasn't about to admit defeat, especially when it involved Katie being right.

"I can sleep in one of the hospital beds. There's a shower I can—"

"I said proper, and I mean it, Emily. Besides, hospital food is murder on nutrition." Katie set the bag down and wrapped her arms around me again, holding me still as she whispered, "She's not dying. She's too goddamn stubborn for that."

I shut my eyes and clenched my fingers into Katie's jumper. "She had," I said, feeling another sob threaten to attack the back of my throat, "She'd given up. If Effy hadn't been able to get a hold of my project manager I'd still be buried away in work." I clutched Katie tighter. "I'm so stupid," I said, "I was angry at her for not trying. With just…life. I—I didn't know. She hid it from me, and I—I was too consumed to—" Katie cut me off.

"You can give me all the self-deprecating details while we wait for her later. Now? Shower. Food. Sleep. In that order," Katie pulled away and took my hand, but not before wiping at the tears on my cheeks. I let her lead me away, as if we were toddlers again and she was directing me toward the play set she wanted to climb.

I just…let her.

"I feel like I'm letting her down," I said quietly as we waited for the lift. Katie squeezed my hand.

"By leaving?"

"By _ever_ leaving." The doors to the lift opened and we stepped inside as Katie pressed us down to the ground floor. There had been a town car patiently parked toward the visitor's entrance, the driver now leaning against the black metal with a book perched between his fingers.

"Mrs. Newman, Miss Fitch," the elderly gentleman said with a tip of his hat and a nod at Katie. "Back to the motel then, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you Mortimer," Katie said as she slipped into the car first, tossing my bag onto the floor. I glanced back over my shoulder and tried to picture which room was Naomi's. I so hoped there was a window somewhere. But I knew there probably wasn't.

"I'll be right back," I whispered before I followed Katie into the car.


	4. Three

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to everyone who is reading, and I hope you all continue to enjoy. Sorry it's been a little while, but last week was extremely busy for me. Hopefully this chapter will be worth the wait, don't really know how I feel about this chapter frankly, but maybe you lot will like it anyway. For anyone reading my other fic, Cry Little Sister, I'm having a bit of writer's block with this upcoming chapter, but's it's still moving forward. Hope to have something up for it by the end of the month.**

**I appreciate the feedback I have received, but I have a request if I may. If you leave me a review, I'd love to hear any and all critiques for the story and/or the chapter's merit, but I'd like to discourage any negativity toward Jess Brittain and Co. being shared simply because, candidly, it makes me uncomfortable to read. Simply, I would like to keep the atmosphere positive and just focus on the story at hand. **

**Thank you for being so understanding, lovelies, and without further ado, on to the next chapter.**

* * *

**Three**

Standing in the shower, my hand splayed against the linoleum tiling as the water sprayed my back. I found the instant I was away from the dreary noises and sanitizing smells of the hospital my body began to shut down. I'd damn near fallen asleep in Katie's lap in the back of the car. I really had no idea how I was going to stay awake through a meal. I thought I'd continue to feel guilty over having been kidnapped into this offer of care, but really…I didn't feel anything. My brain couldn't process. All I could manage to do was stand in the shower. The water was turning from warm to cool. And I still hadn't even shampooed my hair.

After a simple scrub down, I shut off the spout and stepped onto the washroom floor. One towel wrapped my hair, the other blanketed my body. I spooled it around my torso twice. Glancing into the mirror, I saw how sunken in my cheeks looked. My eyes were practically black with the bags beneath them and my collar bones were definitely more prominent. Closing my eyes, I sighed. "Guess it doesn't take much," I said. I struggled to remember what, if anything, I had eaten over the last few weeks. A few memories of stale sandwiches and spoonfuls of watered down soup were all I could clearly recall. My stomach growled.

Exiting the loo, I peered around the corner where Katie was laying dinner out on a small dining room table in the sitting room of the suite. Since she was bound to be staying, she'd insisted on holing up somewhere which best suited the life to which she was accustomed. I stood in the hallway as she peered up from the curry takeaway she was dishing out onto plates. "I don't have any clean clothes," I said quietly. Katie smiled.

"Good thing we wear the same size then. While you were in the shower I sent your clothes to get cleaned." I returned the smile, which honestly, took great effort.

"Thanks," I whispered before crossing back into the bedroom and opening one of the large paneled drawers. "Thank fuck she's given up leopard print," I mumbled, pulling out a pink tank and matching shorts and slipping them on. I excavated my hair free from the towel and ran my fingers through my wet, messy mop before entering the adjoining room. Katie was already digging in. One hand maneuvered her fork into her mouth while her other set of fingers texted furiously on her phone. I sat down to the plate in front of me and while it looked amazing, smelt better, it also made me feel queasy. "Head in the game proper, Ems, remember?" Katie said, not even bothering to look up from her phone. Picking up the plastic fork, my fingers trembled a bit as I slowly popped the warm food into my mouth. I chewed slowly. The urge to upchuck was immediate but I resisted. Once I swallowed I attempted a second bite.

"Have you heard from the hospital?" I asked, my voice pensively hopeful.

"No. Don't expect we will." Katie looked up from her phone and tapped the edge of my plate with her fork. "Tuck in."

I'd never struggled so much to eat in my life. And curry at that. One of my favorites. Katie and I didn't say much, speaking only briefly about this and that until I was certain the food would stay down. Finally she patted my leg and said, "On to stage three. Sleep." I glanced at the clock on the wall.

"It's only 6."

"Is that how many hours of sleep you've had this week?" she countered. The food was hitting my stomach pretty hard, so now on top of my exhaustion I was fighting a food coma. Katie took my hand and slowly led me back into the bedroom. Letting go of my hand, my twin pulled down the duvet and sheets.

"You don't have to tuck me in. I'm not a fucking infant." I glared at Katie from where she stood across the bed, but she merely waved her hand across the sheets. Groaning and slipping into the warmth of the unfamiliar but very large and expensive bed, my protests were ignored entirely, as Katie all but swaddled me into the bedspread. My skin momentarily crawled at the touch of the foreign fabric, but once my head hit the pillow my eyes started to lull.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"A bit," I whined. A few seconds later, I heard shuffling, a drawer opening and shutting, and then I felt Katie sort herself into the other side of the bed. We lay in silence, my eyes turned toward the ceiling whenever they opened. Katie lay on her side, her hand rubbing up and down my arm as it rested outside the sheets.

In spite of being completely knackered, I dreaded the thought of falling asleep. For the same reasons I always dreaded it. Because there was this terrified part of me that would be startled by the news Naomi had died the minute I re-opened my eyes. And I would be somewhere else. I wouldn't be with her.

"How could you not know?" Katie asked, pulling me out of the tips of the inevitable spiral my mind was about to follow. "I haven't even seen her, but stage four cancer? She had to've looked like a—"

"She kept it from me," I insisted. "Really fucking well." I closed my eyes and swallowed. "It got to a point where we were fighting more and more. Skyping less and less. Relied mostly on phone conversations. Texts. I found out later her friend Dominic was replying to me half the time, through Naomi of course, when she was too weak to do it herself." Katie's hand stopped stroking and stilled. "She told me she got a second job, still doing that ridiculously awful stand up where she could, but it kept our hours off track, we were…going days without talking to one another." The weight of the facts from the last few months made my stomach turn. "I came back once…to just…check in. I missed her. So much." I paused. The tears were prickling up again but they weren't just surfacing out of guilt or mourning or grief…they were there because I was so fucking tired. And still so goddamn angry. "During my visit, while I was getting settled in our room, she stored all of her medication in Effy's. Knew I wouldn't look in there. She seemed…fine. We talked. Said we would talk more, but that was before. Before she got worse. Before I got that extension which turned into a second project and then a third and I was suddenly moving all the time. Manhattan. Brooklyn. Up to Plattsburgh. Lake Ontario. All the way to Quebec. Barely had time for a two minute text let alone a five hour Skype session." My voice broke again. It had been obvious. So fucking obvious if I had just…tried harder. Looked closer. "All that…fucking time that was just…wasted. And she—she just—I don't know, Katie," the tears were flowing now. Fuck I was done with crying. And it was all I could do. "I'm sure it's easy. For you to think I was stupid. But…the simple truth is…" the tears were searing my cheeks hot, burning against my skin as flammable as the guilty, self-inflicted rage in my chest, "…she kept it from me."

My hands clutched outside of the duvet and as soon as my knuckles whitened, Katie's hands were blanketed over mine. "How could she do this?" I continued, boiling and furious now, relishing in the anger I had to suppress when I was with her but now could unleash against the walls my sister was setting up for me. Because she knew how badly I needed it. "Why did this happen? Katie, what if she—I don't know what I will do if she—"

"She won't," Katie's voice was insistent. But it only made me angrier. I sat up, snatching my hands from hers and eyeing her down.

"No," I said, "don't you do that, don't you _dare_ do that. I don't need that from you. Don't talk to me like everything is going to be fucking fine."

"I'm not," Katie insisted, shifting so she was looking me dead on, "and that's not what I said. She's not going to die, Emily. And things aren't going to just suddenly be ok. They're going to be terrible. Horrible. Painful for you both. And that's why you need to get some sleep. For fuck's sake, Emily, please." Katie's voice morphed from stern to insistently sweet.

My neck suddenly felt weighted as my hands were brought up to clutch against my eyes. A sob shook me as I sunk into the bed. Katie's arms were around me immediately. Somewhere between the crying, and the soft calming sound of my twin's voice, my body gave in. And I slept.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, the room was dark. My head was pounding and I blinked several times to clear my vision so I could read the digital clock on the nightstand. 5:30am.

_Early morning then._

Rolling over, I leaned over to the lamp and switched it on to checked if Katie had slept in the double beside me. I was a bit surprised to see the duvet unturned and all the pillows still in place. My stomach growled and twisted as my feet stepped out of the bed and carried me slowly to the door. An onset of panic settled into my stomach when after a brief search of the bathroom and sitting room, I realized Katie was nowhere to be found. Just as I was about to turn back to go into the bedroom and ring the bitch for leaving me alone in a strange motel, I heard the keycard in the door. Katie stepped through quietly a few seconds later but and met with my scowling face.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I demanded.

"Relax," Katie coolly, responded, setting a small sack and her bag onto the nearest hard surface. "Pastry run." Slipping her jacket off, she added, "Was hoping you'd wake up with your infamous appetite." Rubbing my eyes profusely in at attempt to ease my crying hangover headache, I managed to sit in a large, rather uncomfortable armchair.

"Don't know what I'm feeling at the moment," I replied honestly. My vision focused slowly after a few blinks and rustling from a few feet away indicated Katie was already set on making me eat. Again. "Katie," I groaned, "just…not yet ok? Has the doctor called?"

"That fit specialist said it'd be at least another two days, Ems." Sighing, too tired to fight the oncoming battle that was sure to wage itself should I protest to being fed, I stood and crossed to the table as she rattled off an extended 'on step at a time' speech. No doubt she'd rehearsed it several times in the lift. I bit into one of the biscuits but couldn't really taste anything. My mouth was dry from last night, and not even the black coffee in the take away canisters seemed to offer any flavor. I stared out the window while I chewed and it took Katie slapping my arm to get my attention again.

"Oi! I said we need to go and collect the things from the flat." I dropped the pastry back onto the plate.

"I don't know if I can, Katie," I said after a rather difficult swallow.

"Listen, I had my attorney ring up Effy's. That place has been seized. If we don't collect what's left of Naomi's things by the end of the day then it's all theirs." She reached into the box and pulled out a lemon square. "Now, there's supposed to be someone coming by the room to bring us the key. We'll have to go with an escort, to make sure we don't knick anything. Though I don't see why, Effy was never one for real high end taste." I sighed.

"Can't you—"

"No I can't. Besides, how'm I supposed to know what shit belongs to who. Aren't some of your things still there." Katie bit into her cake. "Those I could possibly manage. But Naomi's taste was always piss poor."

"Don't do that," I said, my voice dangerously low as I looked up at my twin from beneath hooded eyelids. She gaped at me, mouth full of sugar.

"Do what?"

"Don't talk about her in the past tense." Katie wiped at her mouth and lowered the little bit of cake back to her plate. After two chews she swallowed.

"I'm sorry," she said, "that's not how I meant it I—I was just trying to—"

"Take the piss? It's not fucking funny, Katie."

"I know." She licked her lips and cleared her throat. "I know, I just—I wasn't thinking. I only meant that I'm not going to be much good on my own." Katie reached across the table and lowered her hand over mine, barely making contact, still unsure if the action was welcomed. "I'll be right there, the whole time." I took a few slow breaths before finally deciding,

"After that…can we go to the hospital. Just for a bit." Katie smiled and nodded.

"If it's what you want." I turned my hand up into my twin's and laced our fingers.

"It is."

* * *

I was surprised to find I didn't recognize the building we pulled up to. Glancing out the window I said, "This isn't it. This is far too posh to be their flat." The woman sitting on the opposite side of the long car glanced at the open file. Her beige suit did little to off set her pale skin and even duller dirty blonde hair color. She stared at me over her glasses and her already thin lips almost disappeared as she checked the address.

"This was the one given. All the way to the sixth floor." Pushing the door open she held it for Katie and I to step out in front of her. The sky was overcast, but a small ray of sun pierced against the large building, bouncing off a few of the window panes. I covered my eyes to take in the sight. "Apparently the company where Miss Stonem was employed furnished this for her a few months before her incarceration." I nodded.

"That explains it," I mumbled as Katie merely shrugged at me and followed the worker through the front. A small smile crept over my face as I realized Naomi would hate living in a place like this. Despite her declarations to the contrary, she was her mother's daughter. Extravagance wasn't ever on her agenda.

Stepping out of the lift, I felt a strange sense of foreboding hit me. I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but apparently I looked nervous enough that Katie wrapped her arms around me and whispered, "It's fine. It's going to be fine." Our curt escort opened the latch quickly and her heels echoed immediately over the threshold. I blinked back as my senses were overwhelmed with all of the natural light against the white and ivory walls. Crossing into the corner of one of the empty rooms, I was met with an overlook of the city which took my breath away. Pressing my arms cross against myself, I felt the aching in my chest intensify. I couldn't help but wish I had been able to spend one night, care free, with Naomi glancing out at the city. Perhaps we'd share some wine. Low music. Not so low noises erupting from the rafters moments later. Things that…would never happen here now.

"I believe you're meant to retrieve what's in the master bedroom," I heard from that same nasal new voice, as Katie's hand wrapped around my shoulder. "You don't have much time so I suggest you hurry it along." Swallowing the lump rising into my throat, I followed my twin down a long hallway until we reached a door on the opposite side. I hated we were being followed.

"It's all right," Katie urged, with another reassuring squeeze of my shoulder. I didn't know why she was being so tender. It wasn't like I was collecting anything that—as the door opened into the large, bare room, the panic hit again in a strong wave.

There were long, thick curtains drawn about the windows which Katie immediately moved to open. The electricity in the place had long been shut off so we would have to maneuver around the cold flat as best we could.

Cardboard boxes lined the entirety of one wall. The closet door was open, and even from across the room I could see there wasn't a lot hanging in there. The bed was unmade, and the only things resting atop the bedside table were a lamp, a phone, some pill bottles and…my shaky hand reached out and picked up the photograph. The frame was a simple thin brown, and encased inside was perhaps the oldest photo I had ever seen of myself in ages. My hair was red, fringed, my make-up looked like I was trying far too hard. But glancing at the girl beside me, I remembered why almost instantly. Naomi and I had taken a weekend to fuck off about London just before the end of term. She'd taken me to Richmond Hill, to a picnic, overlooking the entire park. I'd said I thought the idea was romantic. She insisted that she was fulfilling some sort of societal expectation by taking me out for a proper date before I had to spend my entire summer holiday with my family in France, leaving her in Bristol to cope with her mother and their zany bunch as best she could. I'd taken the photo as a commemoration. She said she liked the angle of my smile. So when the print was developed, I gave it to her, in this frame before I left.

Things didn't get easier for us from that point. Only worse. And then better. And then they were perfect and amazing. Then they were hard again and now—

My finger ran over the photo, down Naomi's face, as I admired how effortlessly her hair had begun to grow out. It'd be down to her shoulders by the time I came back. Catching my reflection in the glass, I saw how much older I looked, and in knowing how worn I appeared, how utterly disheveled my Naomi was compared to the young, vibrant Naomi in this picture.

"Looks like we won't have to do much," Katie said in a voice which sounded far away but was jarring enough to bring me back from where I was. "Doubt Effy will have any use for anything." I stuffed the photograph into my pocket and made an immediate decision.

"I don't think we should take any of it," I said simply. Katie's eyes narrowed.

"What? Why?" I shook my head slowly.

"It's just a reminder," was my quiet reply. Groaning, my twin's arms raised and lowered by her side.

"Not any of it?" she asked, placing her hand on top of one box in particular which had my name on it. Frankly I didn't want any of my own things but when my sister beckoned me over and lifted the lid, I saw it wasn't just my personal effects. It was a collection of books, pictures, memories here and there of a different happier time. Of Naomi and Emily. As we were. As I wondered we would ever be again. Shutting the lid I said,

"That can come with us. We'll find…somewhere to put it," before exiting the room and meeting the eyes of the proprietor, or social worker, or collections agent, whoever the fuck she was. "They can take everything else," I said, feeling a choking sob rise into my throat as I left the bedroom behind me.

Walking the length of the hallway, I was hit with the realization that I could have come here under different circumstances. Not to collect the few things we'd need once Naomi was recovered but…my hand braced against the wall as I paused, feeling my knees go weak…to collect my girlfriend's remaining possessions. Closing my eyes, I took a breath and held it. I stood still until I felt a light poke at my back. Jostled from my dark thoughts I saw Katie look at me, peering over the cumbersome box in her hand. "Keep going, this is heavy," she groaned, "don't see why I have to—" Snatching the box from Katie's hands I situated it in my arms as the pair of us made our way to the front door.

I never wanted to see this place ever again.


	5. Four

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to everyone who is reading. I plant to start posting on a more weekly basis as my real life is about to slow down exponentially starting next month. And just to take a bit of a break from the angst, just a bit, how about something "different" for a change. Sorry this chapter is short. The next one will be lengthier. I hope.**

* * *

**FOUR**

_I place the remainder of the dishes in the sink when as her arms wrap around me. A tiny squeeze to my waist brings me closer against her chest as I turn and place a kiss at the top of her forehead. I inhale. Regardless of her long flight out, Emily's hair still smells freshly washed, and I tuck the memory deep inside me somewhere, hoping I can recall it later. When she is back on another plane._

"_It's cold in here," she says, nuzzling deeper into me. I giggle lightly and wrap my arms about her. She is so tiny. Has always been so much smaller, and I sometimes worry if I hold her too tight that she'll simply slip away and float off. The image is penetrable now…now that things are as such…_

"_I'm so glad you're here," I whisper. It is such a loaded statement. Full of more than Emily knows, could ever know. At least for the time being. She pulls away just enough to look up at me and smile._

"_Thought you'd be right pissed off, me surprising you like this but…" her tip-toes raise her lips to mine, and my eyes close of their own free will, leaning into her as she kisses me, "…I'm happy to see that isn't the case." Her eyes bare into me, searching for something I am trying to keep at a distance. Having her this close, the privacy of the flat ours once more, brings an onset of tears to my eyes. Her brow furrows adorably. "Naoms," she says, her voice husky and thick. Five years. Five fucking years of hearing that same voice in so many varying ways. And it still is the most palpable feature this woman possesses. I can barely stand it anymore. The thought that soon this room will be quiet from that tone, that soon…my ears will never hear it again. _

_My lips capture hers desperately. Hungrily. My craving body begs for her to let me…just let me. My fingers cling desperately into her jumper, pushing her away from the kitchen sink and into the dining room. Emily's back collides with the table, and I have half a mind to just lift her up onto it and strip her bare, and take her into my mouth. She shoves me back. Our lips pop apart. "No," she commands, "not here." Her eyes are black with desire, and I am certain my pupils are just as large. My breathing comes out in pants as she pushes me away just enough to rip my cardigan from my shoulders and toss it across the room onto the sofa nearby. _

_Her fingers ball the front of my singlet into her fist as she keeps me in her sights, the bottom of her lip bit in-between her teeth as she slowly maneuvers her way, backwards to the bedroom door. I don't wait for her to open it before I have to kiss her again. My hips press into her as I mesh us against the door. My lips gnaw at her neck as I bid a gasp escape her throat. It comes for me willingly._

_The door flies open and bangs against the wall behind it. Our lips have found one another again, as Emily's hand reaches above my ear and slams the door shut behind us. "God, you feel good," I moan into Emily's mouth as she turns me around and pushes me so my legs hit the back of the bed. _

"_You taste amazing," she says with a smile, as she begins to unbutton my trousers. "But I know something that tastes better." Her hand wraps around the outside of my knickers and she stops. In all the bloody haze, I'd forgotten to make up yet another lie on the fly. She's staring back at me, startlingly confused, as her hand slowly reaches out from where it was cupping me, and her fingers lightly trace my skin. It dips lower only to find more flesh beneath her touch. My breath hitches both from the contact and from the onset panic as my brain tries to spin a story as fast as it can._

"_Effy's idea," I finally say in a quick breath. "She wanted to try a Brazilian and would only do it if I went along." Emily's eyes narrow._

"_But—you hate that sort of thing." I shrug._

"_Turn you off?" Emily smiles, as if she's just remembered what she was about to do. She kisses me tenderly and says against my lips._

"_No. No just…different. It's fine. It's good. I like different." She tears the fabric separating her skin from my chest over my head. Her fingertips lightly stroke over my neck, my collar bone, down my stomach. I close my eyes and savor the sensation. There's just enough pressure in the feather-like trace to send my head back to reeling, as if the momentary pause were already in the past._

_And Emily seems to agree as she pushes me down onto bed and makes me watch as she slowly removes her own jumper and tugs her hair free of the braid she had put it up in for dinner. Propping myself up on my elbows I give her a mock pout. "But I was looking forward to mussing that for you." Crawling on top of me, Emily's knees straddle my hips as she forces me flat against the duvet with a kiss._

"_Now there's just more for you to hang on to." She smiles into the next kiss and her lips slowly begin their descent. My chest rises and falls the harder I breathe, as each kiss tattoos itself onto my skin, a soon to be memory…and it's enough to make tears threaten to spill from the corner of my eyes as Emily finds her intended destination. My heels dig into her shoulder blades as she pulls my knickers clear and lowers herself, on her knees of the bedroom floor, pulling me into her. Nothing feels so pure as that first kiss of contact. It shocks me just as much as the first time it happened…four years ago…beside a crystal clear lake…and she's building me…slow…fast…slow….fast, fast…slow…my hands in her hair, my hands in my own hair, my hands on the sheets…I'm moaning…I'm screaming…I'm—_

-awake.

* * *

Blinking, several times, the swirling brightness above my head folded into separate lights as my vision slowly cleared. A numbing throb echoed from the top of my head all the way to my toes. I wanted to release a groan, but found my vocal chords wouldn't vibrate upon trying. The smell of sterility hit my senses and I began to rack with a sob as I realized I was not beneath my Emily, but stuck in this goddamn bed in this fucking hospital and I was terrified it would be all I'd ever know. All I'd ever see from this point out. Plastic drawn curtains. My hands constantly throbbing and unable to flex and move from the IVs plugged into both of my hands. I probably would shit myself if I were to look into a mirror. I didn't want to know what I looked like at this point. In fact, thinking on it now, it had been months since I'd seen my own reflection. And it only made me cry harder. And harder. My body tensed, wanting to thrash about but I remained immobile either from the strain of the treatment or my exhaustion or both, like it fucking mattered anymore.

My mind only let me grieve over my own pathetic realization for a few minutes before a nurse came to my "window," dressed from head to toe in a sterile uniform. I turned my head from her as it was the only thing I could actually moved. I wanted to be able wallow in goddamn peace, for fuck's sake. Couldn't I at the very least have that? "Can't you just fucking go away?!" I barked, finding my voice harsh and grotesque at last.

"Naomi…" The sound of my name was quiet, deep, and oh so beautifully familiar. My head slowly turned back to the figure barely visible through the thick, opaque lining surrounding me. She was so far away. So very far away and I wanted desperately to reach her. But I couldn't even so much as sit up properly.

"Emily," I whispered, feeling the tears threaten to take hold of me yet again. "Emily," was all I could manage again, as I strained to, at the very least, see the color of her eyes just above the mask she'd been forced to wear. They were all of her that was visible, and yet I could place the rest of her face below it from memory. Her button nose, her curved lips, her sweet, tiny little ears, her prominent cheek bones. All mine. All my Emily.

"I wish I could touch you," she said, and I could hear how difficult it was for her to speak. "I want to kiss you." I couldn't bear the thought of her on the verge of tears so I smiled, and hoped she could see it.

"Think I'd need to brush my teeth first, don't you think, Ems? Not to mention I haven't showered in days." Her laugh was hallow but present. It hurt, desperately, to speak, but I wanted to calm her. I wanted this to be…so much easier for her. And there was no way it could be. Not now, if ever.

"Bet you smell like roses," she said, and I heard a sob break out over her voice as her fingertips reached up to graze over the plastic. My own fingers tingled to reach for hers, across the distance, but the image of me reaching out like an infant was too much for me to bear, so instead, I balled my hand into a fist.

"Do you—do you know anything?" I asked. Her eyebrows furrowed together.

"They haven't talked to you." My shoulders rose in a shrug.

"Just woke up. You were the first thing I saw. Apart from these fucking ghastly machines of course." I smiled again. One of Emily's hands clutched at where the gown fell over her chest and she cleared her throat before lowering her hand.

"Apparently your white blood cell count is up. So they think you'll be strong enough for surgery tomorrow. They—they woke you up long enough for me to—" her voice broke again and so I whispered out in a projected coo,

"Hey…hey…I'm glad you're here. Surgery's a good thing yeah? We survived stage one." She wiped furiously at her tears. "Em, don't do that, the sterilizing shit they put on those gloves could burn your eyes."

"Don't think that's the harshest thing they're taking in right now, Naoms." I swallowed.

"I—I don't know what to say," I whispered. I heard her feet shuffle, and there was a nervous quiver in her voice when she spoke.

"Could you tell me why? I just—I want to know why you—"

"Didn't tell you?" I interrupted, turning my gaze forward, wishing she had waited to ask this until later. But then I think she was afraid there wouldn't be a later. So was I. "Because I think the answer I gave Effy months ago still works. Because I love you. Because you mattered more to me than the truth did. Does anything else really matter?" Fighting against my instinct I added, "for now?" if only to try and give her some hope to cling to. She paused, and then wiped her eyes again.

"For now," she repeated. And I knew she meant it. "They'll be coming around soon." I sighed and closed my eyes. Tears were freely rolling down the sides of my cheeks now, so fucking thankful that at least, if this were to be the end, if I didn't come back from surgery, if something happened and I died on that operating table, I could go knowing that at the very fucking least she wasn't going to hate me forever. That some part of her understood, even if she was still angry, and knowing Emily she was, but we'd grown. Our anger wasn't a key source of what made us work anymore. It was just this bastard bi-product of how much we loved each other.

_Fucking, sodding, sap._

"How much time do we have?" I asked.

"I—I don't know." Her arms were wrapped about her shoulders now, clenching at the fabric beneath her fingers.

"Would it be too melodramatic if I asked you to marry me?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and almost immediately I laughed. "Oh fuck, what meds do they have me on?"

"Christ, Naomi." The air between us thinned and stilled as she replied, lowering her hands. "But…yes. One day. One day I will. On that day when you can do it up proper, and I want it big, Naomi Campbell." She pointed at me through the curtain and I smiled. "Flowers, romantic music, you down on one knee the whole bollocky, wanky traditional way." She paused before adding, "When I can pull you up to kiss me, hands in your long, chestnut hair, running over your pink, healthy skin as you blush because I've shouted 'yes!' at the top of my lungs." I closed my eyes. And saw it all. My hands clutched at my sheets.

"Thank you," I whispered, just as I heard a far off door open. Two orderlies approached Emily and one said,

"Time's up Miss Fitch, we have to prep Miss Campbell for surgery." As one led Emily from the room, she turned over her shoulder, I could barely see her as another wave of drugs hit me hard, but I heard distinctly thought my haze,

"I love you, Naomi!" And those words carried me off, as well as a blossoming, beaming Emily Fitch from where I knelt on one knee, perhaps overlooking some beautiful, cheesy sunset, or in the middle of our flat, or anywhere and nowhere at once.

_A place in my future worth coming back for…._


	6. Five

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm going to do my best about keeping my promise to post more regularly. This chapter is a bit slower, more introspective, but there are a lot of subtle things that happen. And a not so subtle something at the end of this chapter. Time for things to get a bit more interesting!**

**Please read, review, let me know what you think!**

* * *

**FIVE**

I bit the cuticles on my nails. My polish had worn off days ago. The healthy part of my nails gone not long after that. It gave my hands and mouth something to do. When I bit skin and drew blood, I sucked on my thumb, closing my eyes and just focusing on breathing. It was strange how simple little tasks, necessary for my system's very survival seemed like an insurmountable obstacle at certain times during the day. It was well past lunch, and I had appeased Katie in eating a few bites of a sandwich her driver brought us from a nearby deli. But my insides weren't processing anything more than nervous stomach acid. We'd sat in the waiting room for over six hours since I left Naomi's bedside. Katie had assured me on several occasions I would see her soon. Half of me believed her. Half of me knew she was probably wrong.

"I'm always waiting on her," I said in the midst of another bout of silence. Katie had been good about keeping her gob shut for the most part. Just letting me wallow, as long as I didn't look too much like a dazed corpse. She set her cup of coffee down, and looked at me. Waiting for me to continue. Because everything in my voice indicated there was much more to come. "It doesn't matter if I'm waiting on her to take me to a love ball, to tell me she loves me, to tell me the truth, to get her life together. Half of my life has been about waiting on Naomi." My hands slumped into my lap as my head bobbled back against the wall. I wouldn't cry. This wasn't sad. This was cathartic. My head rolled lightly from side to side as Katie remained immobile, ears perked in my direction. Her face was flat, as if my twin was a canvas whose expression my words could paint a new thought into. Freaky feeling, that.

"I leave her to get a part of my life together. So that I can find out who I am apart from Naomi and Emily but also so I can find the better, stronger, more…adult?...part of our relationship. That sounds like such a horrible cliché."

"Some clichés are true," Katie whispered, not wanting me to berate or censor myself, but to continue, unmarked and unafraid. I hadn't done a lot of talking the last few days. And when I had it was always heavy, and weighted, but…there was nothing else to make sense of in this situation…except for myself. Cancer made no sense. But something had to. For fuck's sake, something had to, just for fucking once.

"New York was supposed to give us a brand new start. Brand new opportunity. Naomi was drowning in London, I fucking knew it, but one of us had to fucking try. I thought maybe if I could pull it together, it'd help her too, yeah? She'd be encouraged, connected, fucking something?" Katie smiled then, gentle, as if she were about to impart some great line of wisdom onto me that I was clearly overlooking.

"Naomi's always been a bit shit without you." I waited for her to say more. But Katie just shrugged. That was it then.

"I didn't want to be her life raft. And now…now I can't—"

"Save her? No, Emily. You can't. Only Naomi can do that now."

The silence that followed was the longest Katie and I had ever shared in our lives. Neither of us moved to pick up our phones, to mess with the remainder of the food, to change the telly from that god forsaken Graham Norton program, followed by a particularly horrible re-run of Doctors. We just sat, while I occasionally stared at the clock before shifting yet again, and Katie silently began picking at the paint on her own nails.

_God don't tell me that's a twin thing now too. Fuck's sake._

Eventually the room filled with the ring of a mobile and without a second glance back to me, Katie stepped out of the small little waiting room and into the hallway. The name which had popped up seemed to have given her a bit of surprise as her tone dropped when she answered and I was fairly certain "hello" had not been the greeting she had extended the caller. She was only gone a few minutes before she stepped back in and tossed the mobile into my lap.

I immediately recognized it as mine. But it hadn't my casing or emitted my ring tone. My eyes glared up at my twin who immediately blurted out, "Jonathan says you have to call him yesterday. I've been trying to hold the fucker off, tell him you needed a few days. He doesn't seem to think your sister is a qualified informant at the moment."

"The fuck, Katie," I groaned and dialed Jonathan's number. The conversation that followed was brief.

"Jonathan, I am so sorry, I didn't tell my sister to do that she—"

"It's all right, Emily, I understand, but we need to discuss when you're coming back to New York." Before I could even fathom a reply he quickly continued, "because this slot is quickly going to fill up if you can't get back here in another two weeks, at least for the three month extension you signed up for."

"Jonathan, I—I can't leave London, I just can't. Naomi's undergoing surgery and she's going to need—"

"Hire a nurse, Emily. This is an opportunity that won't wait around while your girlfriend heals up in some hospital bed." It took one, long, slow inhale and exhale to make up my mind.

"I can't leave, London." There was a brief pause over the phone before,

"I'm sorry to hear that, Emily." And the line was disconnected.

And with a dial tone everything I had worked for over the last year was gone. "Goddammit," I whispered.

"What happened?" Katie asked, sitting beside me.

"I think I just got fired."

"How can you get fired from an internship?" I gave my twin a sad smile.

"I'd moved up quite a bit. And well, not fired exactly. I suppose 'dropped' is a better word." Katie's eyebrows knit closer together, insisting I explain. "I was being considered for a permanent position with DNA Models to be one of their photographers."

"Holy shit, Ems, that's like…one of the biggest modeling agencies in New York." I raised an eyebrow. "I read every kind of magazine, Emily, and yes I mean I actually read. My selections have gone a bit bigger than Heat now you know." I nodded slowly.

"I agreed to the stay, went on a few calls, and they wanted to hire me. The thing is, by the time I'd started to consider it…my internship was up and Q&G weren't looking to hire so…it was DNA or nothing. Now…apparently, it's nothing. At least according to the man who was trying to get me the job in the first place." Katie placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Prick," Katie whispered.

Sometimes doctors had amazing timing. I wasn't in the mood to think on the consequences of what just happened, so when a white coat appeared in the glass doorway and pushed the handle in, I was rather thrilled. "We've got her stabilized. We should be able to move her into a room in the next few days." As quickly as the smile had appeared on my face it was gone.

"A few days, why not now?"

"Naomi's been moved back into intensive care unit to be kept under closer observation. We're still in the critical hours I'm afraid," the surgeon replied, but his tone was comforting, and encouraged. "The tumors have been removed but once again it's up to her to make sure it all takes." Katie's arm wrapped around my shoulders. I could see out of the corner of my eye she was smiling. But I couldn't muster one myself.

"Thank you, doctor," Katie replied for me. Once he was gone she squeezed my shoulder and added, "think it's time for us to go back to the motel."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to protest. I wanted to make it perfectly, blatantly clear that I had just surrendered my job to be in this chair. This chair was the only link I had left in this situation. I could sit in this chair and this chair would be here and soon Naomi would be here too. And I hadn't just thrown everything away for—for—but—I was just too tired to say or think of any counterargument.

"I'm so tired of waiting," I half moaned, half cried into my own hands, pressing them against my cheeks to keep myself from tearing up. "I'm tired of this hospital, and doctors, and take out and, fuck's sake." My voice was dry, harsh, even for my own ears. My hands fell back into my lap. "She wanted to be…a stand-up comedienne." I glanced over at Katie. I waited for a reply. A retort, a smart ass remark, for her to take the piss well proper. But instead she smiled. And then she giggled. And then she laughed.

And goddammit if it wasn't infectious. The two of us sat there laughing like a pair of cloned braying hyenas. Fuck if it didn't feel wonderful.

* * *

Katie had moved the box with my…our…things into one of the corners of the sitting room of the motel. There was this large, gorgeous crystalline chandelier that hung in the center of the room, and even in the slightly drawn burgundy curtains, there was enough light for little pixels of color to appear in just the right places. I sat on the floor in front of the box, covered in specks of light blue, pink, some yellow and purple. The sun had to be close for there to be so many distinct, separate colors.

For the very first time since I arrived in London I had my camera in my hand. Raising it to my eye, I brought the box into focus, changing speeds and lenses with a little flick of my finger, the way I'd been taught…but knowing it had mostly been on instinct. For half a second a streak of light broke over the top of the box and down into the center hole and my mind went on autopilot. _Click_! With a smile I set my camera to the side and opened the box in front of me.

Naomi would be moved to a recovery room soon, and I wanted it to look a little less bleak than the one she had been carted into in my absence. I had seen the one photograph on the small shelf, the photograph of us on my bright orange metallic moped which had been a bribery present from mum the summer before. She'd bought it before even settling her deal: dump the blonde and it's yours. She hadn't taken into account I would be letting go of neither. The picture was taken that day, my second day back from Paris, a representation of freedom.

Perhaps that's why I had wanted to go into photography instead of stifling myself down into four years of uni. One was enough to let me know there wasn't a place in the world I felt more myself than behind my camera. And there wasn't a subject I loved capturing more than the life and stages of my enigmatically simple girlfriend. She hated having her picture taken of course. But she soon forgot I had this annoying habit of memorizing every ritual she puts into motion. I knew when she was in the kitchen to make her tea, I knew when she was about to begin a rant about another ridiculous assignment to read yet another boring dissertation about Bronte one or Bronte two, and then the post cigarette that followed such a rant. And even in the surprised, stolen moments, when she woke before I did and laid beside me, the sun bathed over her ivory back amongst the long waves of hair she had grown into pools of cinnamon brown since our days at Roundview. And I reached onto the bedside table, and stole a few memories for myself. Of all the beautiful people I had seen in America, there wasn't a single touch of skin, a moment's burst of eye color or a lip more wrapped in the curl of a thoughtful passionate life than Naomi Campbell's.

What lay in that hospital bed was a shell of a reminder. But it was only for now. And I was going to help her remember what was and what still is. I had to help her remember that. Because like Katie said, things were going to be horrible. They were going to be shit. Harder than ever, especially now since neither of us had a way to fend for ourselves.

_One bridge at a time, Fitch._

Sorting through the remnants in the cardboard box I was surprised at the things I found. Photographs taken either on holiday or just a random party thrown in some random bloke's honor at the corner booth of a rave or by the pier with swimming costumes about to be drenched by the bay. Notes and schedules and journal entries about the days we had spent in Goa, and a set of pressed flower crowns that I had made Naomi wear the first day we were at the beach. Little sticky notes left throughout the first flat we'd shared with Katie in Bristol before she met Mark and hurried off into marital bliss. Pamphlets from our corresponding unis, and pages torn out of text books scribbled with notes Naomi had made over dissertations. She had been particularly proud of one she had done on the broad subject of "women in politics." It had been presented as her final project at the end of year two. Fifty pages on insightful musings written by Sara Goldman co-incited with Margaret Thatcher and beyond. I remembered the way she had read it aloud the very first day she had finished it, after nearly 36 hours and ten cups of coffee, she was stomping about the flat, her voice inflicting and deflecting in various accents during the most important parts as if she were ready to tackle the world by her brilliant paralleling discovery that "all women were to summon the courage to stand together…and stop fighting one another like pretentious mongs." So, maybe those weren't her exact words, but that was the overall point. Beneath those were little postcards Katie and Mark had sent to us from their transatlantic honeymoon. In the midst of these brief but always enthusiastic re-tellings of all the wonderful places Katie was experiencing was a small snap shot of all of us at Katie's wedding: the Fitches, the Newmans, and my Naomi, clustered together, no longer pretending to be a happy family, but clearly, so clearly here, a very happy one indeed.

I put a few things to the side as I reached into the box one last time and my palm brushed against a soft, warm fabric which I didn't recognize at first. With a small tug I brought it out from the bottom of the box where it had resided and stared at it long and hard. As my fingers traced over the red and grey, long-checkered pattern I tried to recall why this particular…and I smiled. As I realized and remembered. I brought this to the lake. That very first time. The only time. We never saw that lake again after that night, the memories even now, nearly six years later were still hot and pressing. Confessions left on the forest floor. The first time…Naomi was brave at my request.

And now she was doing it again. Being brave and fighting…just because I asked her to. I stood and walked across the room to pick up the phone and rung the front desk. "Yes, hello this is Emily Fitch in room 205, I was wondering if I could get an item laundered. I need it in a few hours if that's possible. Really? Thank you so much, yes I'll leave it in the basked outside the door. And please…please take extra care it's…it's very precious."

* * *

This recovery room was a lot smaller than the one I had walked through nearly a month ago. There weren't any dresser drawers for me to store any of my clothes, so it looked like I would be living out of a bag. Katie had thought to bring in a pair of some fake roses, not real ones considering they tended to wilt. And seeing that happen in a slow process was well depressing in an already quite depressing situation. I placed a few of the photographs I had found on the small little counter top that was beside the rather tiny window. I tossed a tiny pillow I had bought in a small shop into the singular, nearby chair. Metal frames weren't going to be very comfortable for sleeping. Couldn't tuck in with Naomi right off the bat. As I pulled the old throw from the bag, Katie cast me a curious look. "I didn't know you still had that." I smiled, the still lingering scent of the woods somehow still managed to cling onto the past despite its thorough dry cleaning earlier that afternoon.

"Naomi had it stored down in the bottom of that box." Katie fluffed the roses in the simple glass vase she had brought.

"What for?" I giggled a bit as I replied,

"I don't think you'd like that story. Not unless you were looking to add project vomiting to your to do list today." Katie rolled her eyes dramatically as she curtly replied,

"Fuck me for trying to be interested." I settled into the chair at the opposite end of the room, trying to figure out how comfortable the damn thing was going to end up being. I clung the worn blanket close to my lap as Doctor Hoffman entered the room.

"Hello, Emily," he said in that obnoxiously kind yet foreboding tone. I never knew what to expect from that particular sound. "I'm afraid we've run into a bit of a complication." The air in the room got thinner.

"Complication?" Katie asked, crossing to me and placing her hand tenderly at the top of my back.

"The surgery, as we said, was successful. And Naomi was responding well at first but—we knew going in organ failure was almost an imminent problem." The air was getting much, much thinner. I opened my mouth to speak but wasn't able to, so the doctor continued. "Naomi's kidneys have shut down. We've placed her on dialysis and we still plan on moving her into this recovery room but…she's going to need a transplant. Rather immediately as dialysis will only keep her weak body cleansed for so long. The trouble is, most people aren't willing to transport healthy organs into a nearly dying body."

"Mine!" I shouted, now finally finding my voice, "take one of mine!" The doctor shook his head sadly.

"Miss Fitch the blood work you provided for us before we took Naomi into surgery shows us you aren't a match. I'm so very sorry." Before I had time to reel over how I had yet again failed Naomi he continued. "However, there was someone who, unbeknownst to Naomi, had some tests run in the event, much earlier on, a transplant could have saved Miss Campbell before the cancer had a chance to spread. And she is a perfect match. The problem is, we're going to need to speak to her lawyer in order to get a release form, should she agree." Reaching into the stack of files he brought with him, Doctor Hoffman handed me the manila envelope.

In the little corner in the top right hand corner read the name of the one person whose donation could save Naomi's life: Elizabeth Stonem.


	7. Six

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this chapter is late and not very lengthy, but the plot moves, so yay! Not some of my best work, mates, sorry for that, but we do get to get things into oncoming snowball mode for the upcoming chapters. There are a lot of twists and turns ahead, just stick with me yeah? Forgive me this once, and I promise to do better by you in chapters to come.**

**Please read, review, let me know what you think! **

**SIX**

The guard pressed the buzzer and immediately the set of glass doors opened in front of us. A light shove from a rather tall, rough looking lad pushed me forward and into Katie. I mumbled an apology to my twin as I cast the rude bloke as vicious a stare as I could muster. I'm pretty sure the snake tattoo on his chest hissed at me as a result. One by one we were ushered into the large room filled with a series of round tables and chairs. "Visitors sit on the left, prisoners will be escorted on the right," another guard further into the room instructed. Katie selected a table by the only window in sight. "Hands are to remain on top of the table. No touching. You're allowed one thirty second hug hello and goodbye should you choose. Once everyone is seated and has their hands where we can see them, we will escort the prisoners out. They have one hour. No longer."

I folded my hands atop the round table, never making direct contact with the sticky surface. I was momentarily grateful I had selected a long sleeved jumper this morning. A small wring of my palms alerted me to the fact they were sweaty. "You all right?" Katie said, noticing the nervous frown which had settled on my face. I nodded and swallowed. The temperature was set high, and my collar was sweating. At least that's what I was telling myself. Really, I hated the idea of being in a cage. Knowing Effy was in here was more than a little unsettling. Katie put on her cool, business face, but I could tell the smell alone unnerved her. Captivity had a stench, and it permeated through the walls, like it was alive and closing in.

"Let's do this and get the fuck out of here," I fervently insisted. Katie's hand moved to cover mine, but a nearby guard intervened by wrapping her knuckles against the table.

"No touching." Katie threw her a look, mirroring, 'are you serious?' and was just about to give her what for, despite that being a rather atrocious idea, when a door on the other side of the room opened.

I sat up a bit straighter as my eyes craned around the convicts slowly being ushered toward their respective family members or significant others or…whomever. A few were staggering slowly into the room with their hands cuffed in front of them. I shivered a bit at the vacant looks in their eyes. Some were happy to see the people in the room. Others looked like they couldn't give two shits.

Katie's knee nudged mine as my head turned from looking at one particularly gruesome looking older woman to the person we had come to see. Even in an orange jumpsuit, Effy still somehow managed to saunter in as if she were instead cloaked in a designer gown. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail and the curls against her neck shifted with each tiny tilt of her head. She gave us a half smile as she sat at the table and quietly placed her hands on top to match ours. "Hi," she said, her tone friendly, "don't suppose you're here to smuggle me some fags, are you?"

"How are you?" I asked immediately. The last time I'd seen Effy I hadn't exactly been patient. Or kind. But I was hurting and my anger had been justified. In fact there was still quite a bit of it left. Right now, however, I had to set aside my indignation. "They treating you ok?"

"Things are as can be expected," she said in her usual largely unimpressed tone. Seemed she was resorting a bit back to her former self. The self I knew before New York called. "It's good to see you, Katie," Effy said with a friendlier lilt. Their relationship had always been a bizarre one to me. Forced friends. Enemies. Close as sisters. Who the fuck knew what page they were on now.

"Hello, Effy," was Katie's kind reply. "Don't suppose they have gobs of eyeliner you can wear to cover your onset of crow's feet." Her eyebrow cocked up as a result of her curled lip, and Effy smiled.

"Bitch," Effy replied, affectionately. "So, unless you're both here for a very interesting conjugal, perhaps we should get to the point. I only have an hour after all. And I'm going to need at least twenty minutes to get warmed up."

"Christ," I grumbled, but Katie's smile simply grew.

"You're not here just to peak at my jolly face," Effy insisted, "besides the last time I saw you, Emily, you popped me one like you were trying out for an all woman's rugby team." Katie gaped in my direction, but Effy saved me by continuing, "Which I fully deserved, believe me. And it's not that I'm not happy to see you both, I am, just—you get a lot of time to think in here, y'know. Been ages since Effy Stonem's been left with her actual thoughts. Can't say it's been pretty." Katie and I's eyes softened, now utterly confused and concerned by Effy's little confession, and my fingers itched to reach for the set in front of me.

"Effy," I said, leaning forward the tiniest bit, now right and proper worried, "are you sure you're ok? Is there something we can do for you?"

"Anything," Katie insisted, "I'm loaded now. In case you hadn't heard." Effy's smile faded. She swallowed, and her fingers began to twirl lightly in her hands.

"Come on," she insisted, "enough. Let's get this sorted babes. What's up? Is—is Naomi-" Then it clicked. Why she had been so insistent we get to the point. She must've thought,

"Oh," I mumbled, "no, Effy, um, Naomi she—she's fine actually. Well not so much fine as better." The color drained from Effy's face.

"What? But—but she—"

"Is one stubborn little bitch," Katie finished with a smile draping her lips. Effy blinked a few times before her open mouth replied,

"She's alive?" I shifted nervously in my seat. I thought I'd know how to broach this, how to explain it properly, but I forgot I was going to have to fill Effy in on everything first. I wondered, momentarily, if I would be doing this type of relay for the rest of my life now.

"For the time being," Katie answered, but I took up the baton quickly.

"Naomi went through a lengthy, painful processes to get to where she is, Effy." I clutched my fingers together. I didn't know why this was so hard. "She just barely survived surgery. They removed the tumors from her ovaries after an experimental treatment with monochromal white blood cells." Effy's eyes narrowed as she tried to both process and understand everything I was relaying, "They basically had to make sure Naomi's system would heal itself after something so invasive. It worked. Sort of. But now she…she's dying again…and we need your help." Effy's blue eyes peered into me in that crazy, creepy way that only a Stonem could muster. "Naomi needs a kidney transplant and…you're her only nearby match."

"What about Gina?" I bit my bottom lip.

"We thought about trying to contact Gina but Naomi hasn't heard from her in months. Even if we could, by some miracle, track her down she possibly couldn't get here in time." Katie draped her hand across mine for a brief second while one of the guard's backs was turned. Placing her hands back in their place, she added,

"Mark knows someone who could push the process along should you agree. Cut a few of the paperwork ties, snap some of the hoops."

Effy glanced from Katie to me and back again. The silence was strangling the air from the room. I would have thought she would have some yes or no automatic answer. Apparently she was delighting in taking her time. "And she could still die?" was her cold, deliberate answer. My lips thinned and my hands formed into knuckles as my voice dropped down to a dangerous shaky tone,

"You owe her, Effy. You owe _me_." Effy stared at me for several seconds. If it were possible her eyes were diving even further into me. I swallowed but kept the eye contact, unwilling to break the current passing between us. Apart from revealing to Naomi I was in love with her, I couldn't remember a time in my life where I felt more naked and exposed. Finally after what seemed like eons of waiting, Effy's shoulders slumped as she whispered out a soft laugh and bit the side of her lip.

"Just wanted to make sure you were fighting too, Ems," was her cheeky answer as she leaned back into her chair. "Of course I will. Just bring me the papers and we'll get to making Naoms all better, yeah?"

"Already drafted," Katie said, presenting Effy with a stack of medical forms. The guard glanced over to us and Katie met her disapproving stare with one of her own. "We've already cleared this with her lawyer. Would you be so kind as to fetch us a pen?" The brazen woman looked mildly offended but walked over to the security guard behind the large outdoor counter none the less. There was a brief conversation held between them before she brought us a fountain pen. Katie nodded with sugary sweet, fake appreciation. "Thank you so much," she said as she handed Effy the pen.

Effy didn't even so much as read the papers before signing them. An unfamiliar sensation gnawed at the pit of my stomach, causing me to ask, "This was pretty easy," to which Effy only smiled. "Thought you'd have a few more questions." She stared me head on before answering,

"I knew Naomi was sick," her tone was very matter of fact, but there was something behind her eyes, behind the oceanic waves she used to mystically keep everything hidden from the rest of the world, something I had never seen in them in all the years I had known her: regret. "I didn't want to know how much. I knew I was a match for her. But at the time…that didn't prove to mean much. Did it." I moderately, momentarily regretted my tone earlier. But just momentarily.

With a final scribble of her hand, Effy placed the pen down and away. Katie glanced over the paperwork making sure nothing had been forgotten. "So when's this cheery little event taking place?"

"As soon as we can get you transported to the hospital." Effy nodded, glancing back in my direction.

"This has to be costing you a bloody fortune," she observed, "how are you—"

"Emily's got it covered," Katie quickly interjected. Effy's smile curled yet again. Her eyes always sparkled just the tiniest bit once she put pieces together. It was her tell. But I doubt few people had ever taken the time to learn that.

"Good."

"Time's up," the guard at the front announced. The three of us stood from the table as Katie went in for a hug first. I wiped the sweat from my hands as Effy pulled me in next.

"I'm glad I called you," Effy said. To most people, that would have been an acknowledgement of bragging. Like Effy had something to do with the turn of events that had transpired over the last few days. That she was in some way responsible for saving Naomi's life. Which she was. Again. But that's not how she said it, that's not at all how she meant it. For Effy, this was just a genuine observation.

"Me too," I replied as I stepped back from the embrace and out of Effy's arms. "I'll call you. Make sure you have everything you need." Effy nodded as the same hefty lady guard escorted us toward the door. I glanced over my shoulder as all the inmates were led to the opposite side of the room. Effy's eyes caught mine before she disappeared.

She smiled. And so did I.

* * *

Minutes after we arrived at the hospital, we found Naomi had been moved into a recovery room. "It's just temporary," the nurse insisted, "they figured it'd be better for her than spending another evening in the intensive care unit." I was relieved and excited all in the same breath. I wasn't going to have to put on all that quarantine level shit just to glance at her through a plastic cloak. I was going to see her. Touch her. Kiss her. My head reeled and my heart pounded. Even Katie couldn't hold back her excitement as we were led down the hallway. I'd forgotten she hadn't so much as seen Naomi since she arrived.

A few feet from Naomi's room, I heard her laugh. An involuntary, happy sigh escaped my lips but was immediately cut short by the drifting of another voice from within. A deep, male voice which I didn't recognize in the least bit. As we entered through the front door, s young man with big ears, big eyes, and abhorrent taste in sweaters was beaming down at my girlfriend. His hand was resting on the gurney bars as he smiled down at her while they both continued to laugh.

Katie's heels easily signaled our arrival and Naomi's eyes turned to mine. And in that moment, my momentary jealousy at not being the first to be here subsided. At least from a roar to a dull echo as she smiled at me. Her face lit up. There was color in her cheeks. Her hands didn't look like thinning spindles but actually seemed more plump. My bottom lip trembled as I took in everything, and without a word my lips found hers, pressing in a ferventness I had held in for weeks. I had almost forgotten what she tasted like. "You must be Emily," the man in the room said as I raised above my girlfriend's lips and rested my forehead atop hers.

Once my attention turned to him he extended a hand toward me. I shook it lightly as he continued to smile. "This is Dominic, Em," Naomi said. "Think I told you about him a bit." I blinked the name into familiarity. He didn't look how I had pictured him for some reason.

"Yes, hello, sorry I'm just—I was surprised she was here. And awake. And…talking." A laugh fell from my lips as I realized how ridiculous I was being. But how much brighter I sounded. Dominic nodded as he stepped around the bed.

"I was just leaving actually. Hadn't had a chance to come around in ages. But I'm leaving for Madrid tomorrow. Relocation. Wanted to say goodbye to Naomi." There was relief in his eyes. No doubt he was as happy to find her here was as I had been despondent when the same had been true of me. "Looking good, gorgeous," he said as he lightly tapped her foot. It twitched. She felt that. A happy sigh escaped my lips as Naomi took my hand. I looked down at her and her smile intensified from earlier.

"Yeah," she said, reading my expression, my mind, as she so often did.

"Take care," Dominic added as he headed for the door. As he crossed over the threshold I remembered my manners, and my need to thank him if I ever got the chance to meet him, so I quickly stepped outside of the room. I tapped his shoulder once I was within range of his back and he turned.

"Dominic, um, thank you so much for…for looking after her. Someone had to." His bright eyes beamed beneath his shaggy black hair as he nodded and sighed.

"We all wish it had been Effy though, y'know?" His response caught me by surprise. But it was true none the less.

"Yeah," I agreed, "she's making up for it though. In spades." Dominic smiled, plaintively.

"I'm sure. It was nice to meet you Emily. I hope it all works out. She's a lovely lady." The smile I returned to him was a bit amorous at the thought of how lovely my lady really was. And how brave.

"I'm inclined to agree," I said as Dominic waved and headed for the lift.


End file.
